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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25024294">Ruin Your Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_trekkie/pseuds/space_trekkie'>space_trekkie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Academy Era, Author Desperately Tries to Understand Xenolinguistics, Dorks in Love, Everybody's Favorite Grumpy Vulcan Boyfriend, F/M, Fluff, Interspecies Relationship(s), Parrises Squares sounds kinda fun?, Romance, Starfleet Academy, Who doesn't love Gaila?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:28:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,866</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25024294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/space_trekkie/pseuds/space_trekkie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“He’s hot, isn’t he?” Gaila says, eyes tracking the Commander as he makes his way down the concrete pathway. </p><p>“I guess, in a boring, incredibly uptight, kind of way.” Nyota takes a few steps in the direction of their dorm, eyes fleeting back to the sight of his broad shoulders disappearing behind the aeronautics lab. Gaila just smiles at her, and Nyota can feel blood rush to her cheeks. </p><p>“Didn’t you have him as a professor last semester?” Gaila asks, as she turns to follow her down the footpath.</p><p>“I did,” Nyota answers. “Advanced Phonology. He was brilliant, a real legend in the department.” </p><p>Gaila stops her with a hand on her arm. “But you don’t think he’s hot.”</p><p>“I didn’t say that.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gaila/James T. Kirk, Spock/Nyota Uhura</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>102</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Spock and Nyota on AO3, Spock and Uhura Archive</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. All Things Green</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nyota watches Commander Spock carefully as he walks across the grassy lawn in front of the xenolinguistics building. He’s tall, strikingly so, and he holds himself in a way that makes him stand out against the throngs of cadets filing towards the mess hall. Something about the curve in his back, maybe, or the hardened expression dotting his long face.</p><p>The sun glints off of his rank insignia as he turns a corner, and she quickly snaps her head back to stare at the ground below her feet.</p><p>“He’s hot, isn’t he?” Gaila says, eyes tracking the Commander as he makes his way down the concrete pathway. Her roommate was never one to filter her thoughts.</p><p>“I guess, in a boring, incredibly uptight, kind of way.” Nyota takes a few steps in the direction of their dorm, eyes fleeting back to the sight of his broad shoulders disappearing behind the aeronautics lab. Gaila just smiles at her, and Nyota can feel blood rush to her cheeks.</p><p>“Didn’t you have him as a professor last semester?” Gaila asks, as she turns to follow her down the footpath.</p><p>“I did,” Nyota answers. “Advanced Phonology. He was brilliant, a real legend in the department.”</p><p>Gaila stops her with a hand on her arm. “But you don’t think he’s hot.”</p><p>“I didn’t say that.”</p><p>“I knew it!” Gaila nearly shrieks. “You’ve been pining after him for the past six months and you didn’t even tell me.” A dramatic pout has appeared on her face, accentuated by her arms crossed tightly across her chest.</p><p>“Keep your voice down!” Nyota grabs one of her wrists and drags her along the busy sidewalk. “I’m certainly not pining. He’s a commander, it’s against regs.”</p><p>“No, it’s not.” Nyota stops and glances at the Orion’s face. She’s smiling again, teeth white against her green skin. She looks as if she’s about to burst.</p><p>“What do you mean? He’s a professor, even if I wanted to—” Gaila pushes a finger to her lips.</p><p>She only lifts her hand away after Nyota falls silent. She takes a deep breath. “Have you actually ever read the fraternization regulations?”</p><p>Nyota pauses. She hasn’t actually read that part of the handbook, it seemed like such an impossibility when she enrolled. She doesn’t even date other cadets. “No, but it’s common sense. The Academy doesn’t want professors running around with students.”</p><p>“He’s not your professor. At least not anymore. The Academy doesn’t explicitly forbid relationships between cadets and officers, as long as there’s no chance you’ll be in their class again.” She squeezes Nyota into a bone-crushing hug, eyes alight with newfound possibilities. “As someone who’s fucked her way through half of the senior teaching staff, I would know.”</p><p>“Oh my god, Gaila.” Nyota laughs, hands covering her face. She looks around to make sure nobody heard her rather profane roommate, then pauses for a moment. “Wait, only half?”</p><p>“I’m working on it, don’t worry.”</p><p>“Of course you are.” Nyota turns and continues the short walk to their dorm. “Just don’t sleep with Commander Voll, she was a horrible Interstellar Navigation professor. Almost failed Santiago for being two minutes late to a lecture.”</p><p>Gaila threads their arms together and nods a little too enthusiastically. “Sure, I’ll definitely steer clear.”</p><p>“You’ve already slept with her, haven’t you?”</p><p>Gaila pats her on the arm, an amused look on her face. “Yep.”</p><p>***</p><p>Nyota’s alarm blares through the room, waking her up with a jolt. Gaila is grumbling from her bed, one arm reared back, ready to launch a pillow at the unwelcome noise. Nyota stumbles up and looks at the clock, it reads 06:30 hours. She has an hour and a half to get to her Intermediate Cardassian lecture.</p><p>After fumbling for her cadet uniform and comm unit in the dark, she flicks the light switch and covers her ears. Gaila lets out a shout, legs flailing under her mountain of covers. “Come on, you don’t wanna be late.”</p><p>The flailing stops. “I would rather die than go to class.”</p><p>“No you wouldn’t. Get dressed, I’m hungry.” Nyota yanks the covers off her roommate in one fluid motion, exposing long green legs and a mess of red hair. “You need to eat something.”</p><p>“No, I don’t. I got chlorophyll for a reason.” Gaila flips to her stomach and wraps her arms around her head.</p><p>Nyota reaches for her pad and quickly pulls up today’s mess hall menu. “But they have fresh matcha ice cream.”</p><p>Gaila sits up with a squeal and throws her clothes on in seconds. They walk to the mess hall silently, both roommates still too groggy from sleep to have any real conversation. The power of non-replicated ice cream compels them, despite the chilly November air.</p><p>The cafeteria is already bustling when they arrive. Cadets are clustered at tables across the room, a sea of red uniforms laughing and feasting on standard issue pancakes and eggs. Nyota heads straight for the cereal, pouring herself a large bowl of corn flakes. She snags an apple from the fruit stand and starts searching the room for an open table. Gaila has already bounced off to the ice cream station, which she has all to herself at this early hour.</p><p>Nyota wonders idly if they serve it especially for Gaila. Her roommate has definitely made friends with the mess hall staff, despite the fact that she doesn’t exactly need to eat. She’s always bounding into the kitchen asking for the strange desserts and jellos she finds appetizing. As the only Orion at the Academy, they tend to indulge her more often than not.</p><p>Nyota searches the busy room again, finally settling on a circular table near the door. Gaila joins her a few minutes later, carrying a truly monstrous pile of matcha ice cream.</p><p>“Is that… pistachios on top?” Nyota leans across the tabletop to inspect the crumbly topping spilling off her plate. She grabs a napkin and tries to wipe up as much as she can.</p><p>Gaila just shrugs. “What can I say. I like green things.”</p><p>Nyota chuckles and takes a bite of her plain cereal. “Do you have Quantum Computing today?”</p><p>“Yes. And we have a test I haven’t studied for.” Gaila begins shoveling the ice cream into her mouth at breakneck speed. An Andorian cadet from a nearby table starts to stare.</p><p>Nyota looks at her roommate and shakes her head. “You’ll be fine, you could teach that class.”</p><p>“That’s true.” Gaila nods. “Lieutenant Commander Park doesn’t like me though.”</p><p>“What’d you do?”</p><p>“I may have corrected him in front of the class.” Gaila pauses and looks past Nyota’s shoulder. “Humans, your egos are so fragile.”</p><p>Nyota winces. “Professors tend to appreciate that kind of feedback in a more private setting.”</p><p>Gaila scraps the last of her ice cream into her spoon and gives it an overly dramatic lick. The Andorian to her right blushes a faint royal blue. “Well, he shouldn’t have coded it wrong then.”</p><p>“That’s a fair point.” Nyota feels two hands grab her shoulders from behind and jolts. “Wha—”</p><p>“Cadet Uhura, what a surprise!” a male voice yells behind her head. She recognizes it instantly.</p><p>Nyota flips her head around and catches a glimpse of deep set blue eyes and a wide smile. “Hello, Kirk.”</p><p>He pulls out a chair beside Gaila and plops down next to them, tray of pancakes in hand. “You ever gonna let me take you out on that date?”</p><p>Nyota can hear Gaila giggling as she stares at the command-track cadet. He’s too cocky for his own good. “You don’t even know my first name.”</p><p>Kirk shakes his hand in her direction, stuffing pancakes and maple syrup into his mouth. “Because you haven’t told me. We could fix that anytime, Ashley.”</p><p>Nyota scoffs. “Nope.”</p><p>“Elizabeth?” he asks, with his eyebrows raised and an arm sprawled over Gaila. Her roommate tries valiantly to hold back her laughter.</p><p>“Not even close.” She rises from her seat, half empty cereal bowl still sitting on her tray.</p><p>Kirk smiles and Gaila ruffles his perfectly quaffed hair. “I’ll get it one of these days.”</p><p>“You absolutely will not.” She grabs Gaila’s empty plate and stacks it with her dishes. “I’ll see you later Gaila, good luck on your exam.”</p><p>“Thanks, Ny.” Gaila pauses, eyes wide, then covers her mouth with her hands. “Whoops.”</p><p>Kirk doesn’t waste a second. “Ny! I heard it! What’s that short for? Nyla? Ny-omi? Ny-talie?”</p><p>Nyota has to fight the smile off her face. “Goodbye, Kirk.”</p><p>He’s beaming when she turns towards the door. “Goodbye, Ny!”</p><p>Nyota just walks aways, stopping to dispose of her dirty dishes before heading to her morning class.</p><p>***</p><p>Life as a Starfleet cadet is difficult. The physical training, mental exhaustion, and separation from family all take their toll. But once she graduates, she’ll have the opportunity to explore strange new worlds—entirely new cultures, languages, and civilizations. No matter the temporary hardship, she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.</p><p>Nyota tries to remind herself of that as she fights to stay awake to the sound of Commander Viroha’s voice. He’s standing at the front of the lecture hall, barely speaking above a whisper.</p><p>“Repeat after me, cadets. <em>Ka nirayut taskinat'U; hi ka kinkith'I</em>,” he says, as he scrawls the phrase onto the board with a shaky hand. Only a few students seated in the front of the room respond.</p><p>Commander Viroha turns to face the class. “And who would like to offer the translation in Federation Standard?”</p><p>Nyota straightens in her seat. She raises her hand and makes eye contact with the elderly Bolian.</p><p>He nods in her direction. “Go ahead, Cadet Uhura.”</p><p>“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you." She’s confident in her answer, but that doesn’t stop her hand from fidgeting against the skirt of her uniform.</p><p>“Exactly, excellent work.” He turns to erase the board. “Class dismissed, everyone. Do not forget about the classic Cardassian literature assignment due this Friday. You may choose between the works of Corjal Gad and Vulla Drell. No exceptions.”</p><p>Nyota grabs her book bag from under her chair and stores her note-taking pad. She’s just about to run up the lecture hall stairs when she hears her name called from the front of the class. It’s Commander Viroha, she realizes, and turns on her heel.</p><p>He’s studying his pad near the podium when she reaches him. “Sir.”</p><p>“Cadet.” He taps the screen a few times then meets her eyes. “I’ve just sent you a flier for an upcoming seminar—<em>Advancements in Universal Translation for Vulcan Language Derivatives</em>. I think you should attend.”</p><p>Nyota nods enthusiastically. “Of course, sir. When is it?”</p><p>“Tonight. 18:00 hours. Don’t be late.” Without another word, he slides his pad into his briefcase and strides up the stairs and out of the lecture hall. She watches the back of his bald head as he goes, confused by what just happened.</p><p>It’s not unheard of for officers to invite promising students to special lectures of seminars, but it’s usually not worded as a command. She pulls up the flier on her pad and squints to see the name of the presenter. T’shath, she reads, a name she recognizes. She’s a brilliant linguistics professor from the Vulcan Science Academy. Nyota cannot afford to miss this meeting, not with the amount of networking likely to take place behind the scenes.</p><p>Nyota walks slowly out of the xenolinguistics building, eyes adjusting to the bright lights of the quad. She suddenly stumbles into something—no someone—in front of her, and she throws her hands forward to catch herself. They land on a broad, densely muscled chest. Two large hands grasp her shoulders, steadying her. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve been looking—”</p><p>“In the future, Cadet Uhura, I would suggest you be more careful.” At the sound of his voice, she lifts her gaze and jumps back as if scalded. The man she has just face-planted into is Commander Spock. The expression on his face is blank, if not mildly annoyed.</p><p>Her heart beats wildly in her chest. Of all the people to run into on campus, why did it have to be him? At least she didn’t accidentally touch his hands. She can’t imagine what he would think, listening to her scattered collection of thoughts. “I’m so sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”</p><p>He just nods, placing his hands behind his back. A second passes, before he briskly walks past her and into the building. Nyota runs her fingers through the end of her ponytail, trying to soothe herself. It doesn’t work.</p><p>On her way to her next class, she sends Gaila a comm message, asking her to meet for dinner.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. That Damn Cider</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Remember that time I drank three Cardassian Sunrises and kept trying to reprogram the replicator,” Gaila asks, while looking at her expectantly.</p><p>“Yes, unfortunately.”</p><p>Gaila smiles and smacks her arm from across the table. “Well you wouldn’t leave me alone and ended up dragging me to the Commander’s class.”</p><p>“Oh yeah, I do remember that.” Gaila had tried to create some kind of lime gelato monstrosity that day. After the third power surge, Nyota had kicked her roommate out of their dorm and dragged her to Advanced Phonology. She takes another bite of her noodles. “Wait, how is this relevant? You were definitely asleep for half that lecture.”</p><p>“Well when I wasn’t asleep I saw the way he looked at you.” She slurps her drink loudly. “That and the pheromones.”</p><p>Nyota blinks, mouth parting slightly. “Excuse me, the what?”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Gaila, it was horrible. I just smacked right into him,” Nyota says, while shoving a fork full of noodles into her mouth. They're eating at one of her favorite restaurants, a Thai place a few blocks from the main campus.</p><p>“Incredible.” Gaila claps her hands together and bounces a little in her seat. “Tell me everything.”</p><p>“I was barreling out of Viroha’s class, you know how he can be, and I just didn’t see him.” She sets down her fork and covers her face with her hands. “You should have seen his face, I thought he was going to court-martial me on the spot.”</p><p>Gaila doesn’t immediately respond and Nyota peeks at her roommate from behind her fingers. She’s smirking.</p><p>Nyota looks down at herself for a moment. She hasn’t spilled any food. “What?”</p><p>“I doubt he wanted to court-martial you.” Gaila takes a sip of her kiwi flavoured smoothie—her dinner for this evening. “In fact, I think he was more than happy to help you back on your feet.”</p><p>Nyota shakes her head. “He was scowling. There was definitely a scowl on his face.”</p><p>“Remember that time I drank three Cardassian Sunrises and kept trying to reprogram the replicator,” Gaila asks, while looking at her expectantly.</p><p>“Yes, unfortunately.”</p><p>Gaila smiles and smacks her arm from across the table. “Well you wouldn’t leave me alone and ended up dragging me to the Commander’s class.”</p><p>“Oh yeah, I do remember that.” Gaila had tried to create some kind of lime gelato monstrosity that day. After the third power surge, Nyota had kicked her roommate out of their dorm and dragged her to Advanced Phonology. She takes another bite of her noodles. “Wait, how is this relevant? You were definitely asleep for half that lecture.”</p><p>“Well when I wasn’t asleep I saw the way he looked at you.” She slurps her drink loudly. “That and the pheromones.”</p><p>Nyota blinks, mouth parting slightly. “Excuse me, the what?”</p><p>“The pheromones. You know, the chemical signals that you excrete when you’re happy. Or horny, for that matter.” Gaila fiddles with the edge of her hair. “He’s definitely attracted to you, judging by what I smelled. I thought you already knew that though.”</p><p>“I most certainly did not know.” Nyota feels the blood rush to her face. She bounces her leg under the table, trying to contain her nervous energy. “Are you sure? You could’ve gotten it confused with somebody else. Ithar was in that class, he’s always had a thing for me.”</p><p>“Vulcan pheromones are pretty distinct, Ny.” She drinks the last of her smoothie and plops the empty glass down in front of her. “I don’t see why that’s so hard to believe. You were his star pupil, you raised your hand like eight thousand times.”</p><p>“He’s… He’s him, though.” Nyota places her hands on the table and begins to count on her fingers. “He was valedictorian the year he graduated. He’s a head professor in two departments. Plus, I hear he’s short-listed to be a senior officer on the Enterprise.”</p><p>Gaila stares at her in disbelief, then whips out her fingers and starts counting. “You’re on track to be our valedictorian, you would be a better xenoling professor than anyone currently in the department, and the Enterprise is going to be begging you to man their comms when we graduate. And on top of all of that, you’re incredibly fucking hot!”</p><p>Nyota chuckles at the absurdity of it all. “If you’re right, why has he never said anything?”</p><p>“I don’t know. Maybe it’s his noble Vulcan sensibilities.” She eyes the waitress across the room, likely in search of another drink. “Or he could have a bondmate.”</p><p>A feeling of dread sweeps over Nyota. She hadn’t considered the possibility that he was bonded. “Do you think he does?”</p><p>Gaila shakes her head. “I can’t imagine so, unless she’s also in Starfleet.”</p><p>“I don’t think there are any other Vulcans currently enlisted,” Nyota says, as she checks the messages on her comm. She sees the time and lurches upright in her seat, it’s nearly 18:00 hours. She juggles her credit chip out of her bag and pays for her meal through the reader on their table. “I’ve gotta run to that meeting, Gaila. See you in a few hours.”</p><p>“You’re welcome!” Gaila shouts, as Nyota gathers her things and walks towards the door. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see her roommate flag the unsuspecting waiter over with a flick of her wrist.</p><p>***</p><p>The lecture hall is cold when she steps into the room. The two hundred or so seats are half filled, and Nyota can see a mix of xenolinguistics professors, interested officers, and cadets scattered across the rows. She spies a seat in the back that’s empty and makes her way over, eyes trained to the front of the room.</p><p>Professor <em>T’shath</em> is striking. She’s tall, in the way that almost all Vulcans are, with jet black hair and high, distinguished cheekbones. The black robes she wears fall gracefully over her shoulders. Some Vulcan script is sprawled in gold lettering across her sleeve, but Nyota can’t quite make it out from where she's standing.</p><p>The professor is talking to someone positioned next to the stage. Nyota can just barely see the top of a man’s head peeking above the crowd. He’s dressed in the standard black instructors uniform, shoulders broad and hands placed behind his back. He turns suddenly and Nyota freezes. She can see his ear. His very obviously pointed ear.</p><p>She staggers the last few steps to her seat and sits down. Noel Taras, a fellow xenolinguistics cadet, smiles at her from an adjacent row. It’s not unusual for a group of them to get together and come to these sorts of events. She smiles back at her, but doesn’t move seats.</p><p>The auditorium lights flicker once, in warning. The dull thrum of the crowd fades and she watches as Commander Spock returns to his seat in the front row. She tries her best to avoid staring at the back of his head.</p><p>What if the things Gaila said during dinner were true? It seems unlikely—he was always so professional, courteous even, in class and office hours. She tries to wrack her memories, searching for any indication that he might be <em>interested</em> in her. Nyota remembers how his gaze used to linger on her when she would answer questions, and he did bring her tea that one time in his office, but nothing else obviously sticks out.</p><p>Professor <em>T’shath</em> is an enrapturing presence on stage. After a quick introduction from Commander Torellv, a rather squat-looking Tellerite who is head of the xenolinguistics department, she begins describing her research. Nyota listens intently as the professor explains how the Vulcan Science Academy is attempting to improve translations of the three known Romulan dialects.</p><p>“Romulan is a purposeful derivative of High Vulcan. As a consequence, the language shares countless loan words,” Professor <em>T’shath</em> intones in clear, almost clinical, Standard—a common trait in most Vulcans. She waves her hand and a photo of a Romulan warbird projects on the screen at the front of the auditorium. “Native Vulcan speakers are typically able to identify and distinguish Romulan despite the similarities. However, universal translators struggle to differentiate the languages due to the subtle differences in vocal tone.”</p><p>Nyota is a child of diplomats, ones who dragged her to countless interstellar meetings and political summits and exposed her to as many people and cultures as possible. She only became fluent in Vulcan a few years ago, but it has quickly become one of her favorite languages. Something about the intonation intrigues her, how every sentence forms a melody when spoken aloud.</p><p>“A team of linguists are attempting to overcome this technological limitation through adaptive learning.” Professor <em>T’shath</em> waves her hand again and the screen flickers to an image of acoustical processing code. “By analyzing recordings of Romulan military communications, our scientists can distinguish unique tonal variations in the phonemes of words—and incorporate that information into the artificial intelligence unit of the universal translator.”</p><p>Nyota watches the screen with rapt attention, lulling into a state of peaceful concentration.</p><p>***</p><p>Nyota shuffles her feet as the crowd filters out of the auditorium. The sounds of clinking glasses and muffled laughter peel across the reception area. Someone hands her a drink as she weaves her way through the sea of uniformed bodies. She takes a tentative sip—some kind of apple cider, she guesses. It’s got a nice, warm flavor that’s perfect for fall in San Francisco.</p><p>She scans the crowd as she drinks from her glass. It’s mostly older faces, officers, visiting professors, and the like. Nyota spots a bald blue-colored head near the refreshment stand and makes her way across the room.</p><p>“Commander Viroha,” Nyota says when she reaches him. The elderly Bolian turns and nods in her direction.</p><p>“Cadet Uhura, I’m glad you came. Did you enjoy the presentation?”</p><p>“I did, sir. Thank you for the invitation.” Nyota smiles at an impeccably dressed Bolian woman quickly approaching them from the crowd, multiple <em>hors d’oeuvres</em> balanced in both hands. Commander Viroha rushes to greet her, grabbing some kind of cured meat crostini and stuffing it in his mouth.</p><p>“Nyota here is one of my best students,” Commander Viroha murmurs while chewing. The woman smiles at her, and extends a delicate blue hand. Nyota quickly wipes the condensation from her glass on the skirt of her uniform and reaches out. Her deep-set golden eyes crinkle at the edges when Nyota meets her gaze.</p><p>“Well, isn’t that lovely?” She hands another <em>hors d’oeuvre</em> to Commander Viroha. “What is your concentration, dear?”</p><p>Nyota swallows a sip of her drink. She’s been asked this question countless times before. “First Contacts, particularly how first contact events shape the syntax and language structure of post-warp societies.”</p><p>“That sounds fascinating.” The Bolian woman nudges Commander Viroha, who is still busy devouring every crostini within reach. “Doesn’t it Xiran?”</p><p>“Certainly.” Hands finally empty, Commander Viroha places a hand on his partner’s back. “If you’ll excuse us, Cadet, we’re going to chase down that waiter.”</p><p>Nyota chuckles softly. “Of course, sir. Good luck.”</p><p>The Commander nods, then Nyota is left alone amongst the crowd. She watches the people around her, sipping her drink and biding her time. She really should try to network. To push herself out of her comfort zone.</p><p>Nyota has never been good with people, despite her gift with languages. She comes across as cold, sometimes. Too driven. Unable to take a joke.</p><p>It makes it difficult to date—this unwavering personality of hers. The few guys she went out with at the Academy stopped calling after they realized how much time she spends in the library. And her unwillingness to change. Not that they've stopped trying. Kirk still asks her out at least three times a week.</p><p>Nyota takes another swig of her apple cider and watches two cadets leave the building hand in hand. She really wouldn’t mind being in a relationship, she muses. It might actually be kind of nice, having someone to share her thoughts and feelings with that’s not Gaila. Plus, her roommate would finally stop preaching about how she needs to get laid.</p><p>She can’t deny that she’s attracted to Commander Spock. She has been since the first day of Advanced Phonology, when he strided up to the podium and started explaining the difference between voiced and voiceless implosives. It just never seemed like a possibility. Not until today.</p><p>Nyota finishes her glass and sets it down near the refreshment stand. She scans the crowd for a pair of pointed ears—and to her surprise, finds two. Commander Spock and Professor <em>T’shath</em> are standing near the edge of the room, huddled together in discussion.</p><p>She grabs another cider from the tray nearest to her and marches in their direction, smoothing the palm of her hand over the skirt of her uniform as she goes. She crosses the room, careful to avoid a cluster of rowdy first-years obviously here for the free food and drinks.</p><p>The two professors don’t notice her at first. She clears her throat, then gently interrupts them. “<em>Na’shaya</em>.”</p><p>Commander Spock turns to stare at her, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Cadet Uhura.”</p><p>She forges on in Vulcan, careful to pronounce her words with as little accent as possible. “<em>I found your presentation to be very informative, Professor T’shath</em>.”</p><p>The Vulcan woman nods once, cold eyes scanning over her face. “<em>Your Vulcan is more proficient than the majority of Starfleet officers. Where were you taught?</em>”</p><p>“<em>I took language courses online, as an undergraduate. My instructor was from the S’Lara region</em>,” Nyota says as calmly as she can with Commander Spock watching her. A look of curiosity has settled across his face. He’s never heard her speak Vulcan, she realizes. She placed out of the highest level course available when she first arrived at the Academy.</p><p>Professor <em>T’shath</em> nods again. “<em>I am pleased that you enjoyed the presentation.</em>”</p><p>Nyota is about to respond when Commander Torellv steps in front of her and starts speaking rapidly to Professor <em>T’shath</em>. The height difference between the Vulcan and the Tellerite is almost comical. A few seconds later, Commander Torellv escorts the professor into the crowd and towards a group of waiting Admirals with eager expressions.</p><p>She’s left alone with Commander Spock, who is decidedly not looking at her. She grips her glass tightly in her hand. “I wanted to apologize, Commander, for earlier today. I should have been more aware of my surroundings.”</p><p>“<em>There is no offense where none is taken.</em>”</p><p>The deep tenor of his voice shocks her. His tone is softer somehow, more personal, when he speaks in Vulcan. Nyota raises her gaze to his face, craning her neck at an uncomfortable angle to account for his impressive height. “<em>I offer my apologies, nonetheless.</em>”</p><p>He watches her intently now, dark eyes studying her features. She fights the urge to smooth her hair under the scrutiny of his gaze. Someone coughs loudly behind them and he straightens himself, unconsciously having leaned forward towards her.</p><p>He clears his throat and places his hands behind his back. His shoulders form a rigid line in his black instructors uniform. “Have you been enjoying your courses this semester?</p><p>She notices the switch to Standard, but doesn’t say anything. “I have. Cardassian grammar has been an interesting challenge.”</p><p>“I am unfamiliar with the syntax structure.”</p><p>“It’s mostly—” Nyota hears a shout behind her and immediately turns her head towards the noise. She realizes what’s about to happen a second too late. One of the rowdy first-years has lost his balance, knocking into her on his way to the ground. Nyota manages to keep her feet, but the cider clutched in her grasp sloshes over her hand and out of the glass.</p><p>The cadet on the ground laughs and rolls to his side. His friends snatch him up and push him towards the exit of the building, before they can get written up for disorderly conduct.</p><p>Nyota turns to the Commander, then freezes. He’s standing as still as a statue, apple cider visibly dripping down the front of his uniform. The empty glass in her hand begins to shake.</p><p>“I’m so sorry, Commander.” Her fingers won’t stop trembling. “I didn’t mean—”</p><p>He doesn’t say anything, just stares at the cider pooling on the reception hall floor.</p><p>Nyota’s vision blurs at the edges, the embarrassment of the moment rushing through her. People in the crowd stare at her, shock plastered on their faces. It’s all just suddenly too much. “Please excuse me.”</p><p>Nyota runs from the room, desperate to get away from the stares of onlookers and the silence of the Commander. She doesn’t stop until she’s standing in the middle of the empty quad, glass still desperately gripped in her hand.</p><p>She wanders over to a nearby bench and collapses. She sets the traitorous glass down beside her and covers her face with her hands. The sound of approaching footsteps startles her, but she doesn’t look up.</p><p>The footsteps stop. She can see the black of instructor slacks out of the corner of her eye.</p><p>“Is this seat taken?”</p><p>Nyota smiles into her hands, then takes a deep breath. “Yes.”</p><p>“Truly?”</p><p>She finally lifts her head and studies the puzzled expression dotting Commander Spock’s face. “No.”</p><p>The Commander nods once, eyebrows furrowing together. He carefully lifts her glass off the bench and sits down beside her. In the low light of the evening, she can just barely make out the cider stain blooming across his broad chest.</p><p>“I’m sorry I ruined your night.” When he looks at her, she nods her head towards the center of his shirt. She then reaches out for her aforementioned glass. He hands it to her, careful to avoid accidentally touching her fingers.</p><p>“I do not believe that is accurate,” Commander Spock says, his voice quiet even against the silence of the quad. There's no one out at this hour, except for a few sleep deprived cadets trickling out of the library and mess hall.</p><p>“Well, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” Nyota rubs at her watery eyes with the palm of her hands. “Nobody likes being sticky.”</p><p>She thinks she might see the corner of his mouth twitch. Just barely. “It is of no consequence.”</p><p>Nyota studies the lines of his face for a moment. They don’t tell her anything of importance. If only she could reach out and grab his hand—she’d know exactly what he was thinking. “Why are you being so nice to me?”</p><p>“I—” He stops himself. The Commander readjusts in his seat, hands fidgeting restlessly at his sides. A muscle in his jaw flexes with effort, before he begins to speak. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”</p><p>Nyota’s mouth drops open for a second, before she quickly snaps it shut. Gaila is going to lose her mind. “Are you serious?”</p><p>He nods. </p><p>Nyota smiles to herself, hands fiddling with the empty glass in her hands. “I’d love to.”</p><p>“Excellent.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you're staying safe and sane during these unprecedented times. 💙</p><p>I'm trying to keep a fairly consistent update schedule with this fic. Comments and kudos are always appreciated, and definitely speed up the drafting process!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Sticky Fingers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You can call me Nyota, you know. If we’re really doing this.” </p><p>He’s silent for a moment. “Doing this?”</p><p>Nyota fidgets with the edge of her pajama top. He has to understand the implication of asking her to dinner. “Dating, I mean.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I can’t believe he just asked you,” Gaila says, as she paces back and forth in their tiny dorm room. An enormous smile is plastered on her face and she hasn’t stopped vibrating since Nyota got home ten minutes ago. “I expected him to keep silently pining for at least another year.” </p><p>“It was definitely… unexpected,” Nyota responds. She runs a brush through her long hair and remembers the moment. He was so uncertain when he asked, so uncharacteristically timid. It was honestly pretty charming. “We didn’t set a date yet. I’m supposed to comm him tomorrow.” </p><p>Her roommate throws her hands in the air dramatically. “Where are you even gonna take someone like that?”</p><p>Nyota sets her brush on the vanity and turns to the Orion. “Like what?”</p><p>“No offense, Ny, but something tells me that your new boyfriend survives solely on replicated protein bars and the courage of his convictions.” Gaila plops down on her bed and bounces slightly. “I don’t think I've ever seen him in the mess either.”</p><p>“The Command—” She catches herself and starts again. “Spock told me to pick the restaurant, so he is at least tangentially aware of non-replicated food. Also, he’s not my boyfriend.”</p><p>“Hmm,” is all Gaila responds. She has now flopped onto her bed like a starfish, splaying her bright green arms and legs out in every direction. “Where are you thinking?”</p><p>Nyota grabs a pair of flannel pajamas out of her bottom drawer. Her mother had given them to her years ago when she first started her undergraduate degree at the Institute for Advanced Mathematics in London. The United Kingdom is much colder than her hometown of Mombasa. She moves into their bathroom to change, then does her best to project her voice through the thin wall. “You know the Vulcan fusion place off of north campus?” </p><p>“The one with the noodles you always talk about?”</p><p>“That’s the one.” Nyota finishes buttoning her pajama top and moves to brush her teeth. “Seems like a pretty safe bet.” </p><p>She can hear Gaila tapping her feet together through the wall. “What if he’s a staunch traditionalist?”</p><p>Nyota pauses, toothbrush still in her mouth. It’s a fair question, but something tells her that she shouldn’t worry about the modernity of his tastes. She finishes brushing quickly then strides out of the bathroom. “Then he will just have to humor me.”</p><p>A shrill ringing bounces around the room before her roommate can respond. Nyota rushes to grab her comm from the nightstand next to her bed and answer the call. </p><p>“Cadet Uhura, I apologize for contacting you at such a late hour.” The deep tenor of Commander Spock’s voice is easily recognizable. She smiles into her hand and quickly steps outside of her dorm room and away from nosy ears. </p><p>“You can call me Nyota, you know. If we’re really doing this.” </p><p>He’s silent for a moment. “Doing this?”</p><p>Nyota fidgets with the edge of her pajama top. He has to understand the implication of asking her to dinner. “Dating, I mean.” </p><p>“I see,” he says, after a brief pause. Nyota waits for a few seconds, but he doesn’t say anything. A group of drunk second-years bustles down the hallway and she has to press herself to the door of her dorm to let them pass. </p><p>“Is there anything I can help you with, Commander?” </p><p>“You may call me Spock.” He says it with an air of determination, as if he had just made an incredibly important decision.</p><p>Nyota smiles into her comm. Now they’re getting somewhere. “Well, is there anything I can help you with, Spock?” </p><p>“I—” He takes an audible breath. “I wanted to assure you that my invitation is by no means an order. You are under no obligation to accept if you do not wish to. I promise I will harbor no ill intentions, professionally or otherwise, if you choose to decline.” </p><p>“That’s rather gentlemanly of you, Spock.” Nyota chuckles to herself in the dark of the hallway. “Thank you for the consideration, but I would be happy to accept your invitation.” </p><p>“I am pleased to hear it,” Spock says, with the slightest note of relief in his voice. </p><p>She leans against her dorm room door, idly hoping that Gaila isn’t standing with her ear pressed against the wall. “Have you heard of <em> Galu-kaunshaya </em>?” </p><p>“Fusion?” Spock asks. “As in the atomic process?” </p><p>Nyota shakes her head then realizes he can’t see her. “No, it’s a Vulcan fusion restaurant.” </p><p>“Hence the name,” Spock deadpans. She can almost imagine his face—a stony expression betrayed by the slightest twitch of his lip. </p><p>Nyota taps her fingers against the door. “I think we should go this week. Whenever you’re free.” </p><p>“I am amenable.” He pauses. “When is your last lecture tomorrow?” </p><p>“I’m done at 16:00 hours,” Nyota responds, her mouth dropping open slightly. He doesn’t waste any time, does he? </p><p>“I will be outside your dormitory at 17:00 hours.” </p><p>Nyota laughs audibly now, lifting a hand to her face and running her fingers through her hair. One of her neighbors peers curiously at her from down the hallway. “That sounds perfect.” </p><p>They’re both quiet for a few seconds. When he speaks, his voice is unexpectedly soft. “Goodnight, Nyota.” </p><p>She smiles as she responds, “Goodnight, Spock.” </p><p>Nyota snaps her comm shut and turns to open the door to her dorm room. Gaila is waiting for her, face only inches away from the door frame. </p><p>“Don’t worry, I heard everything,” her roommate nearly squeals. The Orion squeezes her in a suffocatingly tight hug. “We gotta talk about outfits!” </p><p>Nyota groans, but lets Gaila lead them over to the closet anyway. </p><p>***</p><p>The next day passes quickly. She has Intermediate Cardassian in the morning, followed by Elementary Temporal Mechanics and Stellar Cartography in the afternoon. Pavel Chekov, a very sweet first-year cadet, stops her at the end of her final class just as she’s about to leave. Nyota has been helping him practice his Standard in exchange for some tutoring on the more complex cartography equations. It’s been really helpful—he’s some kind of teenage navigation genius. By the time they finish chatting and she finally wanders back into her dorm room, it’s nearly 16:30 hours. She has thirty minutes until Spock arrives to pick her up for dinner. </p><p>Gaila is waiting for her when she opens the door. She’s nearly bouncing with anticipation. “Okay, I’ve got everything picked out.” </p><p>Nyota throws her bag on the ground and strips out of her cadet uniform. “I’m not wearing that green one.” </p><p>“But it’s so cute!” Gaila says while pouting. “It’s much sexier than anything you normally wear.” </p><p>Nyota works on taking down her ponytail and brushing out her waist-length hair. “That may be true, but it’s November and that dress doesn’t have a back.” </p><p>“I thought humans were supposed to be warm blooded,” Gaila says, as she frantically flips through the random assortment of dresses in their closet. Her clothes can usually be distinguished from Nyota’s by the length of the skirt and the number of attached sequins. </p><p>“We are, but we still get chilly sometimes.” Nyota has finished with her hair and moves on to earrings. She grabs two pairs and holds them up for inspection. “Black or blue?” </p><p>Gaila looks at her for a second. “Blue—wait, no. Black.” </p><p>Nyota just shrugs and places the blue pair back in her jewelry box. “Don’t you like that red dress? The one with the weird triangle cutouts on the back?” </p><p>“It’s alright.” Gaila sniffs. “Better than your frumpy gray one at least.” </p><p>“But I love that one.”</p><p>“That’s the only reason I haven’t already burned it.” Her roommate snatches the red dress out of the closet and throws it at her. </p><p>“That’s quite a sacrifice, thank you.” Nyota shimmies into the dress and finds a pair of black boots to slip on. She turns to Gaila when she finishes. “How do I look?”</p><p>“Gorgeous. Stunning. A once in a generation beauty—” </p><p>Nyota shushes her before she can continue. “You’re too sweet.” </p><p>“I’ll be out of the room tonight if you need it,” her roommate says, a smirk dotting her green face.  </p><p>“That’s very kind of you, but no, I don’t think I’ll need it.” Nyota can’t stop the involuntary rush of blood to her cheeks. Even if she wanted to, Spock doesn’t seem like the kind of person to just jump into bed. “You going to Kirk’s?” </p><p>Gaila smiles a toothy grin. “Yep. Bones has a new xenobio cadet girlfriend, so he’s had the room to himself for the past week.” </p><p>Nyota chuckles and grabs her purse out of the closet. She also checks the time on her comm—it reads 16:56. “Thank god, if I walk in here and accidentally see him naked one more time I’m going to scream.” </p><p>Gaila winces, then bounces onto the bed. “Have I told you recently that I love you? And that you’re the best roommate in the universe?” </p><p>“Not recently enough.”</p><p>“Well, I do. And, you are.” Gaila sits up from her bed and moves to push her out the door. “And I hope you have fun on your hot date with your new professor-boyfriend who’s perfect for you in every way.” </p><p>“Love you, Gaila,” Nyota yells over her shoulder as she walks down the narrow hallway to the elevator. </p><p>***</p><p>He’s waiting for her on the sidewalk when she steps out of the building—dressed in instructor blacks. His dark hair shines slightly in the autumn sun. </p><p>Nyota walks towards him with a smile on her face. “You haven’t done this a lot, have you?”</p><p>“I have not.” He studies her for a few seconds, gaze lingering on her dress and boots. “Why do you ask?”</p><p>“Oh, no reason,” Nyota responds. Spock eyes her warily, but doesn’t push for an explanation. </p><p>He motions gracefully to the sidewalk, and Nyota can’t help but notice the size of his hand. “Shall we?”</p><p>Nyota nods and they start the short walk to the restaurant. Once they leave the lobby area of her dorm, she has to quicken her steps to keep up with his long legs. They pass countless throngs of cadets rushing to the mess for dinner. A few of them stare at her curiously—she hopes it’s due to the dress she’s wearing, and not the fact that she’s walking next to a commissioned officer. Spock glances at her every so often, as if he’s checking that she’s still there, still walking in lockstep beside him. </p><p><em> Galu-kaunshaya </em>is empty when they walk through the front doors. It’s hot in the restaurant, stiflingly so, and Nyota is glad that she wore something sleeveless. Afternoon light filters into the small bistro, illuminating the elaborate Vulcan tapestries and artwork that adorns the jet black walls. It’s honestly pretty hip, in an eclectic, yet undoubtedly Vulcan way. </p><p>Spock motions to a circular table near the window and they sit down. Nyota picks up a preplaced menu from the tabletop and studies it, despite the fact that she only ever orders one dish. When Nyota peeks up from the paper, Spock is watching her. </p><p>Nyota sets down her menu and tries not to fiddle with her hands. She runs her fingers over the hem of her dress instead. The fabric is cool against her skin. “Can I ask you something?”</p><p>He nods, spine straightening slightly. His face is almost worried. </p><p>“Why did you invite me to dinner?” </p><p>“I found you to be…” The Commander pauses. “Distracting.” </p><p>Nyota successfully suppresses a laugh, only to be betrayed by an unmistakable twitch of her lips. Spock seems to notice her change in tone. “And you thought dinner would solve that?”</p><p>He opens his mouth then shuts it again. A pained expression crosses his long face. “Yes.” </p><p>“Okay,” Nyota says while grinning. “Can I ask you something else?” </p><p>He nods again, before motioning to the waiter who has finally emerged from the kitchen. She glances at his face. He’s the same plain-looking middle aged man she’s seen here countless times before. </p><p>Before Nyota can ask her question, he’s bounding across the room and greeting them—in perfect, lyrical Vulcan. “<em>Na’shaya. What would you like to order</em>?”</p><p>Nyota sits up straighter in her seat. This waiter had never spoken to her in Vulcan in any of the times she’s visited <em> Galu-kaunshaya </em>with Gaila. Spock seems to have changed that, she muses. </p><p>She looks at the name tag pinned to his standard black uniform, it reads <em> Michael </em> in bold lettering. “<em>I will have the plomeek pho with a side of honey saffir bread.</em>”</p><p>Michael turns to her with his mouth slightly agape. A second passes and he grins at her, teeth white against his tan skin. “<em>Excellent. For you, sir?</em>” </p><p>Spock glances at the menu for a brief moment. “<em>The pok’tar risotto.</em>” </p><p>Michael nods and disappears into the kitchen, before returning with one glass of ice water. He sets it down in front of Nyota. “Your food will be ready in fifteen. Let me know if you need anything.” </p><p>“<em>Itaren.</em>” Spock says, hands already organizing their menus into a stack at the edge of the table. Nyota wonders idly what his apartment looks like—if every errant book and paper is perfectly organized. He probably does his dishes immediately after dinner, she realizes suddenly. </p><p>“I wonder where he learned Vulcan.” Nyota takes a sip of her water. It’s particularly refreshing in the heat of the restaurant. <em> Galu-kaunshaya </em>must spend a fortune on energy bills, or maybe they’ve invested in their own solar heating system. </p><p>“His wife.” </p><p>Nyota almost chokes on her water. “Really?” </p><p>The Commander nods, as he watches her fluster. “T’Lor is an employee at the Vulcan Embassy. My father knows her well.” </p><p>That explains the fusion theme of the restaurant. Nyota sets her glass down carefully. “Does your father also work at the Embassy?” </p><p>He glances away from her, eyes fixated on the ground. One large hand absentmindedly balls into a fist on the table. “My father is Ambassador Sarek.” </p><p>“Oh.” Nyota freezes. “That means...” </p><p>Spock lifts his gaze and clasps both his hands together on the tabletop. His back is ramrod straight. “Yes.” </p><p>Nyota chuckles slightly and Spock just stares at her, expression painfully blank. She instantly quells her reaction. </p><p>With the knowledge that Spock is half-human, things start to click into place. She feels like she might have always known deep down—maybe it was something about the softness in his eyes, or the emotions that seem to simmer beneath the surface whenever he looks at her. Nyota chooses her next words very carefully. “I’m a big fan of your mother’s work. The Grayson foundation is doing wonders for childhood literacy.” </p><p>“I will be sure to inform her.” Spock’s jaw flexes. “I believe you had a query.” </p><p>Nyota looks blankly at him for a moment then suddenly remembers. “You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to.” </p><p>“Alright.” </p><p>Nyota almost chickens out, but soldiers on when she sees the way he’s watching her. There’s a certain desperation in his face that she hasn’t seen before. “Do you have a bondmate?"</p><p>One of his eyebrows lifts slightly. “No, I do not.” </p><p>“Good… That’s great.” Nyota stumbles to take another drink of her ice water. “Thank you for telling me.” </p><p>The corner of his mouth twitches. “I assume you are also not previously engaged?” </p><p>Nyota taps her feet against the ground and resists the urge to fidget. “You are correct.” </p><p>He’s about to say something when the sound of Michael bustling out of the kitchen with two plates shakes them out of their reverie. The waiter crosses the small room in a few seconds and plops down their dishes in front of them. </p><p>The smell of her <em> plomeek </em>pho is heavenly and she quickly tries a spoonful. It’s spicy and fragrant, with flavors that remind her of other Terran vegetable soups but with less acidity. </p><p>“<em> Saffir </em> will be out in a minute. Enjoy.” And with that, Michael disappears again, leaving them alone together in the quiet room. They look at each for a few seconds, both unsure of what to say next. Nyota breaks their eye contact and starts eating in earnest. </p><p>“Where were you born?” </p><p>Nyota doesn’t register the question immediately, she’s too busy shoving rice noodles and broth into her mouth. “What? Oh, Mombasa.” </p><p>Spock tilts his head slightly to the side. “That is in Africa, correct?” </p><p>“Yes, on the east coast, in Kenya.” Nyota fishes out one of the purple carrot-like vegetables in her dish and takes a bite. “What about you?” </p><p>Spock finally grabs his fork on the table and spears some risotto. <em> Pok’tar </em> almost looks like rice, but with an odd spiral shape and more grayish color. It comes with a warning on the menu, that humans may find the grain unpalatable. “<em>Shi’Kahr</em>.” </p><p>Nyota nods and takes a gulp of her water. The heat of the dish is catching up to her. “When were you born?”</p><p>He takes a bite. Nyota wonders if he’d let her try it anyway. “Is that relevant?” </p><p>Nyota shrugs and props her elbows on the table. She’s been wondering his age since she first met him. It’s almost impossible to tell with Vulcans. “It’s typical first-date stuff, I would say.” </p><p>“I will defer to your expertise.” He glances at her from across the table and adjusts himself in his seat. “2230.”</p><p>“Oh.” Nyota sets her fork down. That's only three years before her. That makes sense though, if he didn't obtain an undergraduate degree before enrolling in Starfleet Academy. Vulcan students typically enter directly into the Vulcan Science Academy after their primary education. </p><p>One of his eyebrows twitches. “Were you expecting older?”</p><p>Nyota laughs softly. “I think so. You’re rather intimidating, you know.”</p><p>“Am I?” Spock looks at her, amusement in his eyes. It’s incredibly charming. </p><p>“Don’t you remember Advanced Phonology? Half the class would start shaking if you so much as looked at them.” Nyota swirls her fork in her dish. Spock is somewhat of a legend at the Academy. A brilliant, yet also terrifying professor, who strikes fear into the hearts of unseasoned first-years. </p><p>“But not you.” </p><p>Nyota smiles. “But not me.”</p><p>They eat in silence for a few minutes. A young Andorian couple in cadet uniforms enters the restaurant and Michael rushes out of the kitchen to greet them. Nyota takes another languid bite of her noodles, she’s almost done with the bowl. She takes a breath and gathers her courage. </p><p>“Am I less distracting? Now, that we’re doing this?” Nyota wonders what exactly he meant by that—and if it’s even a good thing. A small, but insistent, part of her still doubts herself. Why would a man of his talent and prestige be interested in her? </p><p>He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “No, I do not believe you are.” </p><p>She smiles at him. “Good.”</p><p>Michael drops her <em> saffir </em> bread off at the table on his way to serve the other couple. It's covered in honey and some kind of Vulcan tree nut that tastes similar to pistachios. Nyota takes the last few bites of her dinner then drags the desert dish in front of her. </p><p>She pulls off a piece of the sticky bread and extends it towards Spock. ”Would you like some?” </p><p>Surprisingly, he takes it from her, their fingers brushing ever so slightly. A warm, pleasant tingle spreads up her hand and into her wrist. “Thank you.”</p><p>The <em> saffir </em>is sweet and dense on her tongue. “Gaila and I like to come here especially for this. She can eat about a pound of it at a time.”</p><p>Spock takes a dainty bite of the bread. “Your roommate?”</p><p>Nyota nods and takes a sip of her water. “Yeah, she’s in computer science. You may have actually seen her before, she’s very… loud.”</p><p>“I believe I am familiar with her work.” He finishes the piece of <em> saffir </em> and reaches to tear off another. Seeing him eat with his hands does something to Nyota. “Commander Park often complains about the performance of his top students.”</p><p>Nyota chuckles at that. She’s honestly surprised that Gaila hasn’t been formally reprimanded yet. “She does like to push his buttons.” </p><p>Spock meticulously wipes his hands on his napkin. “You have that in common.” </p><p>“Really, Commander?” Nyota tries to kick his leg under the table, but her foot can’t quite reach. “I didn’t think I was that bad.” </p><p>Spock raises an eyebrow in earnest. “I remember one particularly impassioned argument, the definition of positional variant allophones, perhaps?”</p><p>Nyota scoffs. “You were wrong and you know it.” </p><p>“I take no position on the matter.” Spock’s tone is light, a comfortable, almost relaxed atmosphere forming around them. She’s really glad she accepted his invitation, despite the stressful circumstances that preceded it. </p><p>They finish the <em> saffir </em> quickly and and each pay for their meal using the scanner on the side of the table. Nyota is secretly relieved, the ‘who pays’ conversation can be difficult in new relationships, especially when cultural differences and rank come into play. Spock signs the Ta’al to Michael as they leave the restaurant and the waiter waves them off with a smile. </p><p>Their walk to her dorm is uneventful, and she doesn’t think she’s imaging how he positions himself a few inches closer than before. Their arms barely brush against each other as they walk down the abandoned sidewalk. She can almost feel the waves of heat eminanting off the planes of his body—it’s comforting, in the chilly San Francisco air. </p><p>They arrive at the door to her dorm and stop, rotating around each other under the fluorescent building lights. It’s late and she really should head upstairs. She has that Cardassian assignment due at the end of the week. Spock just watches her intently, dark eyes roaming over her face. They finally settle on her lips. </p><p>“I’m really glad I came tonight,” Nyota says, her breath hitching as he steps impossibly closer. She has to tilt her neck at an uncomfortable angle to see the sharp lines of his face. </p><p>“I am pleased to hear that.” His hand finds its way to her hip, the tips of his fingers just barely resting on the skirt of her dress. They stand there, watching each other—each waiting for someone to break the stillness between them. </p><p>It’s Nyota who caves. She surges up on her tiptoes, slamming her lips into his with probably more force than necessary. He reacts quickly, wrapping his arms around her waist and supporting her weight as she leans against him. She can feel the corded muscle in his chest and upper arms flex under the strain. He kisses her carefully, methodically even, as his hands sneak downwards grip her hip bones. </p><p>After a minute or two, Spock pulls back slightly, just enough to keep them from kissing, and leans his forehead against hers. He presses his lips against her forehead. “Goodnight, Nyota.” </p><p>She beams up at him, hands still tangled in the fabric of his black instructors uniform. “Goodnight, Spock.” <br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've really appreciated all your kudos and comments, I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it!</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Game Night</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gaila shoves a green finger at her and nearly follows her into the bathroom. “You definitely kissed!”</p><p>Nyota fights to keep the smile off her face. She makes sure to shut and lock the door behind her before speaking next. “So what if we did?”</p><p>Gaila lets out a truly inhuman shriek that ricochets through the thin metal wall between them.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Nyota is awakened by the light of her dorm room windows a few minutes before her alarm is set to go off. She rolls to the edge of her too-small twin bed and grabs her pad off the nightstand, careful not to hit the precariously balanced glass of water she had set out the night before. She groggily scrolls through her messages—nothing of importance sticks out. She swipes at the screen a few more times and checks the news. As she drags herself upright into a seated position, she reads an article about a new trade deal with Andoria and a new tax on Cardassian ale.</p><p>Nyota snaps her head up at the sound of her door sliding open. Gaila stumbles inside in nothing but an oversized men’s uniform. It could be Kirk’s, judging by the stocky proportions of the shoulders. “Good morning?”</p><p>Her roommate searches through her dresser with clumsy hands, spilling brightly colored clothes all about the room. Her flame red hair sits disheveled atop her head. “Need… pants.”</p><p>“What happened to your uniform?” Nyota asks carefully, as she stands up to get ready. She scoops Gaila’s discarded clothes up off the floor and dumps them into another open drawer. “Wait, actually, I don’t want to know.”</p><p>Gaila nods as she finally settles on a pair of red cadet pants. She grabs one of Nyota’s uniform tops and heads to the bathroom to get changed. “That’s probably wise.”</p><p>“Don’t get any bodily fluids on that.” Nyota fishes out a clean uniform dress from one of her drawers and chucks it on quickly. She runs a brush through her hair and grabs an elastic hair tie off her nightstand. It’s already shaping up to be a ponytail kind of day.</p><p>“No promises.” Gaila steps out of their small bathroom looking revived. There’s a smile on her face and something slightly off about her expression. “You kissed him didn't you?”</p><p>Nyota nearly drops the brush. “How could you have possibly known?”</p><p>Gaila jumps up and down a little and taps her nose a few times. “I always know.”</p><p>“Bullshit,” Nyota says, a laugh rising in her chest. Her pheromones can’t be that strong, it’s been almost twelve hours since she last saw the Commander. She finishes up her hair as fast as she can and steps around her roommate to get to the bathroom.</p><p>“Okay, I took a guess, but look at your face!” Gaila shoves a green finger at her and nearly follows her into the bathroom. “You definitely kissed!”</p><p>Nyota fights to keep the smile off her face. She makes sure to shut and lock the door behind her before speaking next. “So what if we did?”</p><p>Gaila lets out a truly inhuman shriek that ricochets through the thin metal wall between them. “I need to know everything. Was it good? Did you use tongue? Did you<em> not</em> use tongue—”</p><p>“Nope, nope, nope. Not answering that,” Nyota yells at her nosy roommate. She debates jumping in the sonics for a few minutes, but she doesn’t want to be late to her first class. She just brushes her teeth and washes her face with cold water.</p><p>“Please, Ny. I’m dying.” There’s definitely a hint of a whine in her voice.</p><p>Nyota washes her hands and unlocks the door to their bathroom. As she expected, Gaila is standing only a few inches away from her face. “You are not.”</p><p>Gaila grabs her shoulders and squeezes. “I will perish.”</p><p>“I’ve gotta run.” Nyota kisses her roommate on the cheek. She ducks out of her grasp to grab her bag off the ground and checks to make sure her note taking pad is safely inside. “Don’t forget to go to class, I know Commander Park can’t wait to see you.”</p><p>Gaila just flops down on the bed, a heavy sigh wracking her slight frame. “I guess.”</p><p>Nyota gives her a wave as she steps through the door. She starts walking down the narrow hallway to the stairwell, Cardassian verb tenses already bouncing around in her head.</p><p>***</p><p>“Do you think it’s, you know, green?” Gaila asks, as she sprawls on her back in the middle of the quad. She’s propped her bag under her head and is playing with a dandelion she picked up somewhere. Nyota is lounging beside her, eyes watching the multitude of cadets cross the lawn and head towards the mess. The weather is unusually warm today and the two roommates are taking advantage of the sunshine in between their morning and afternoon classes.</p><p>“I’m not thinking about that.” Nyota ignores the rush of blood to her cheeks and takes a bite of the replicated apple she stowed away in her bag. She wipes the excess juice on the skirt of her uniform. It’s alright, but the texture is a bit off. Replicated apples are never quite as crunchy as the real thing.</p><p>Gaila doesn’t look at her as she rolls onto her stomach. She seems quite content laying in the sun, her green skin almost shimmering under the late-morning light. “I bet it is. Copper based blood and all.”</p><p>Nyota chuckles quietly and looks around to make sure no one can hear them. “I’m gonna ignore you now.”</p><p>“You know I’m right.”</p><p>Nyota takes a few more bites of her apple and then sets it down beside her. She maneuvers her bag under her head and shimmies her hips to slide down on the grass. “We’ll see.”</p><p>The sound of Gaila’s laugh peels through the quad. Nyota smiles then closes her eyes and tries to soak up the sun for the last few minutes before she has to run to Elementary Temporal Mechanics. Their silence is companionable as they lay beside each other and listen to the wind whistle through the overly manicured trees that dot the lawn.</p><p>They stay like that for a while, until a dark shadow settles over Nyota and she blinks her eyes open. “Hey, Ny.”</p><p>Jim Kirk is looming over her with a toothy grin plastered on his face. Nyota closes her eyes again and turns her head slightly. “You’re blocking my sun.”</p><p>Kirk responds by plopping down next to her on the grass, bag haphazardly thrown at his feet. “Is that better?”</p><p>Nyota presses her lips together and smiles. She cracks open her eyes and looks at Gaila, who is now snoring slightly. She taps her roommate with the edge of her boot. The Orion grumbles, but starts to sit up. “Sorta.”</p><p>“What are you ladies doing tonight?” He asks, eyes shifting between them and hands reaching towards his beat up bag. He pulls out his pad, which has an obvious crack running down one side.</p><p>“Nothing,” Gaila responds. She rubs her eyes a few times then smiles brightly. She’s always extra chipper after spending some time in the sun. Green colored desserts can only sustain her for so long, Nyota muses.</p><p>“I have some extra front row tickets to the Parrises Squares game tonight, if you wanna come along.” Jim taps on his tablet a few times and Nyota can hear her comm ding with a notification.</p><p>Gaila claps her hands a few times and bounces on the grass. “We’d love them.”</p><p>“Wait a minute, I have class tomorrow and that Cardassian assignment I haven’t started yet is due—” Nyota is cut off by Gaila’s hands on her lips. She’d crawled over from a few feet away and is nearly in her lap.</p><p>“We’re going.” Gaila takes her hands off of Nyota’s face and turns to Kirk. “Thanks, Jim. You’re too sweet.”</p><p>Kirk stands after throwing his pad back in his bag. He slides it over his shoulder and leans down to give Gaila a quick kiss. Nyota tries and fails to avert her eyes. “No problem. Game starts at 20:00 hours, don’t be late.”</p><p>He saunters off then, leaving the two roommates alone together in the middle of the quad. Nyota pulls out her pad and looks at her notifications. There’s two—one from Kirk and surprisingly, one from the Commander. “If I go tonight, I need to start that report in the afternoon.”</p><p>“Okay, okay, I won’t bother you.” Gaila picks at her fingernails and admires her sparkly purple nail polish in the sun. “We can’t not go, front row tickets are so hard to get these days.”</p><p>Nyota taps on the notification from Kirk and studies the tickets. They are front row, somehow, and there’s three of them listed. “I wonder if he figured out how to rig the lottery system, there’s three tickets here.”</p><p>“Really?” Gaila asks, hands reaching behind her to snatch up her pad. “Let me see.”</p><p>Nyota looks back at the screen and pushes on Spock’s name. She reads the comm message quickly. He’s inquiring about her plans for tonight. “Tell me if this sounds crazy.”</p><p>“You want to invite the Commander?”</p><p>Nyota looks at her and scowls. “I don’t know how you do that, but yes.”</p><p>“I just know you too well.” Gaila shoves her pad back and stands up. They’ve only got a few minutes before they need to head to class. “I say go for it.”</p><p>“You don’t think it’d be weird?” Nyota asks, as she packs up her stuff and stands beside her roommate.</p><p>“What, bringing a commissioned officer to hang out with a group of stressed out third-years?” Gaila starts walking towards the computer science building and Nyota falls in step beside her.</p><p>Nyota frowns and kicks a patch of exposed dirt by her foot. “When you say it like that it sounds weird.”</p><p>“Fuck it.” Gaila throws her hands in the air and twirls. Her red hair bounces in the breeze. “Life is short, it’ll be fine.”</p><p>Nyota smiles slightly and grips the straps of her bag. “I hope you’re right.”</p><p>***</p><p>Spock responds quickly to her invitation. They’re going to meet outside her dorm at 19:30 hours and take the campus hoverbus to the Parrises Squares court. Nyota wonders if he’s ever been to a game, in all the years he’s been at the Academy. It wouldn’t surprise her if he hasn’t.</p><p>It’s only a rec league match, but cadets take Parrises Squares very seriously. There’s always a crowd at tournament events, even if they’re scheduled in the middle of the week. Tonight’s game is between the Warpspeed Warriors and the Subspace Strikers, two teams Nyota has neither watched or heard of until today.</p><p>She’s currently sitting in her favorite spot in the library. It’s a secluded table on the fifth floor, squished between two stacks of pads and near a window with a nice view of campus. Nobody bothers her when she’s up here. It’s a welcome refuge from the never-ending rush of the Academy.</p><p>Nyota’s nearly done with her outline for her assignment. She’s chosen Vulla Drell and has picked out three of her works to analyze in the essay. Drell was a bit of a revolutionary—she was a deeply devout woman during the era of the Rudellian plague, when Cardassia was thrown into turmoil and the newly formed totalitarian government pushed citizens away from the ancient religions.</p><p>Her stomach growls suddenly, and Nyota looks around the room to make sure she’s still alone. She’s already eaten another apple and a bland cup of oatmeal from the replicator on the third floor. Hopefully there will be something for her to snack on at the court.</p><p>Nyota types a few more sentences then turns off her pad and tucks it into her bag. She should be able to finish with a few more hours of work, and she has another day until the assignment is due. She stands and tucks her chair in, before heading down the five flights of stairs and walking across the quad.</p><p>Spock is standing on the curb when she arrives at her dorm. “Hey.”</p><p>The Commander spins around, gaze locking onto her face. “Hello, Nyota.”</p><p>She takes her comm out of her pocket and checks the time—it’s 19:25 hours. “Let me just go grab a jacket, then we can go.”</p><p>Spock just nods, lips pressed together in a fine line. If she had to guess, he almost looks nervous. Nyota runs up the stairs in record time, dropping her bag onto her bed and scooping up a black standard issue jacket from the closet. Gaila has already left with Kirk and is planning on meeting them there.</p><p>When she steps outside of the dorm building doors, he’s waiting for her with an expectant expression. “How was your day?”</p><p>Nyota smiles up at him and places her hand on one of his uniformed elbows. He doesn’t flinch or move away, so she keeps it there. She can feel the heat radiating off his body under her fingertips. “It was alright. Better now.”</p><p>Nyota thinks she sees the corner of his mouth twitch. “Is it?”</p><p>She nods and leads them forward towards the hoverbus stop. “Oh, absolutely. How was yours?”</p><p>The twitch is more apparent now. “I taught two lectures and attended three departmental meetings.”</p><p>“Sounds boring.”</p><p>They stand together at the edge of the curb and he doesn’t pull away from her. “Somewhat.”</p><p>Nyota smiles and leans a fraction of an inch towards him. “Are you excited about the match?”</p><p>Spock shakes his head slightly. “I must admit I do not know what to expect.”</p><p>“You’ve never been?” Nyota asks, as their hoverbus arrives and they take two seats near the front of the vehicle. There’s no one else in the cabin and it’s only a five minute ride to the court.</p><p>“I did not prioritize Parrises Squares as a cadet.” He’s sitting close to her, one large hand barely resting on the edge of her thigh.</p><p>“That’s not surprising.” She watches the buildings and trees on campus pass by in a blur through the windows. It’s dark outside now, with the streets and sidewalks illuminated in bright fluorescent light. “I don’t go often, but the matches are usually pretty fun.”</p><p>Spock just raises one eyebrow, an incredulous look passing over his face. She smiles at him in response.</p><p>“It’s a good way to get to know your fellow cadets.” She pauses. “Plus, a fight usually breaks out by the end of the night, which keeps things interesting.”</p><p>“Intriguing."</p><p>They stand as the hoverbus arrives at their station. She reclaims her grip of his arm and they head towards the crowd of people clustered outside the gymnasium building. Nyota quickly spots a pair of bright green hands pushing their way through the throngs of people.</p><p>“Ny!” Gaila screams, as she sprints towards them. She stops in her tracks when she sees Spock, raising her hand in a stiff and formal salute. “Commander.”</p><p>Spock just nods at her. “Cadet.”</p><p>Gaila blinks once then grabs Nyota’s arm. “We’ve already got seats picked out, come on!”</p><p>They weave their way through the crowd and Gaila flashes their tickets at the entry point. Nyota looks back every few seconds to make sure Spock is following them. He’s so tall that she can spot the top of his head even when they get separated by a few feet. Music is flooding over them from large speakers mounted on the wall. The thrumming sound, coupled with the ebb and flow of the crowd, is almost overwhelming.</p><p>Spock catches up to them as they jog down the steps to the front row of the court. Nyota can see Kirk and McCoy sitting next to three empty seats, which Gaila promptly drags her towards.</p><p>“Glad you could make it.” Kirk nods in Nyota’s direction, then stops, mouth falling slightly open. She feels a hand at the swell of her back and turns to see Spock staring over her shoulder. “I didn’t know you were a fan, Commander.”</p><p>Spock moves to sit down and Nyota follows suit. “It is a newly acquired interest, Cadet.”</p><p>Kirk glances between Nyota and the Commander, eyes stalling on his hand which is still resting on her back. He cracks a wide grin and raises his eyebrows. “Well, I hope you enjoy the match, sir.”</p><p>He leans over to McCoy and whispers something that makes the other man’s eyes widen. Nyota turns back to Spock and gestures to the court. “Do you know the rules?”</p><p>“I am not familiar.”</p><p>“So there’s two teams…” Nyota gestures to the eight people currently on the court dressed in opposing blue and white. “...with four players each. The goal of the game is to earn points by throwing a handball through the hoop of the opposing team. Whichever team with the most points after an hour of play wins.”</p><p>Gaila leans towards them and starts to explain. “The hard part is the keepers. See that guy with the star on his uniform—his job is to keep the ball of the hoop at all costs.”</p><p>“What is he holding?”</p><p>Nyota chuckles slightly. “That’s the ion mallet. If an opposing player gets too close to the hoop the keeper can smack them with it.”</p><p>“That is rather violent,” Spock deadpans as he surveys the field. It’s getting close to the beginning of the match, judging by the heightened energy in the room.</p><p>Gaila grins at him and bounces in her seat. “Exactly.”</p><p>Spock just raises an eyebrow then meets Nyota’s gaze. “What is the purpose of the pyramid?”</p><p>At the center of any Parrises Squares court is a large, elevated pyramid structure. It’s part of what makes the game so dangerous. “There’s different point values associated with hoops made at the top of the pyramid versus on level ground—five points for at the top, two for on deck, and ten if you make it past the keeper and toss it in.”</p><p>Spock nods and the lights of the gymnasium flicker. The crowd starts hooting and hollering and the eight players take their positions on the court. An official blows a whistle and the match begins. Nyota lays one hand down carefully on his thigh, and to her surprise, he grasps her fingers in his.</p><p>The skin of his hand is warm and dry. She can feel a warm tingle spread up from her fingertips to her wrist, but she can’t sense any more information or sensations. He must have his shields up. She laces their fingers together and balances their hands on his thigh.</p><p>Gaila is kicking and screaming by the time the first quarter is over, the Subspace Strikers are up by seven and one of their players just took a nasty blow from the ion mallet. A medic has rushed onto the field to check her out and the referee has paused all game play.</p><p>“I’m going to get something to eat, do you want anything?” Nyota asks Spock, eyes watching the lines of his face. He doesn’t look bored, which is a good thing.</p><p>“No, thank you,” he responds. When Nyota stands to head to the concessions he automatically stands with her, without her asking for company. She smiles as she weaves them through the crowd of cadets rushing to get snacks and use the bathroom during intermission.</p><p>Nyota scans her credit chip and buys an oversized cinnamon and sugar pretzel. Not the healthiest of choices, but she’s hungry, and she usually buys one when she comes and watches a match. They haven’t been back at their seat for two seconds before Gaila leans towards them and starts to speak.</p><p>“What color is…” Nyota pinches her roommate as hard as she can. “...your face, when you blush?”</p><p>Spock just looks at her with a blank expression. “Pardon?”</p><p>“Ignore her.” Blood rushes to Nyota’s cheeks, but she hopes he can’t see it under the dim gymnasium lights. She can’t quite remember if Vulcan eyesight is any better than that of humans. “Are you sure you don’t want to try some?”</p><p>Spock doesn’t respond, just reaches up and grabs the pretzel from her and takes the tiniest of bites. He nods once and hands it back to her.</p><p>“You’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth, don’t you?” Nyota is smiling as she takes another bite. The injured player on the court just switched out and the referee is about ready to get started again.</p><p>He stares at her out of the corner of his eye. “Perhaps.”</p><p>They watch the next three quarters with rapt attention. The Warpspeed Warriors make somewhat of a comeback, scoring two hoops from the top of the pyramid and one from the deck. Kirk and McCoy seem particularly displeased by their performance. The two cadets scream at the referee every time the Subspace Strikers make it past the opposing keeper, calling for all sorts of penalties and illegalities. Nyota wouldn’t be surprised if they had money wagered on the match. Cadets tend to gamble far more than the Academy would like to recognize.</p><p>In the last few seconds of the fourth quarter, the Strikers score one final ten-point goal before the buzzer sounds. They’re up by nearly twenty points, and Kirk looks like he might cry. “Goddamnit. I can’t believe Hikaru was right.”</p><p>Nyota smiles. She’s met the navigation cadet a few times. He’s quiet, but very nice, and it sounds like he might’ve just won big. Nyota turns and studies the court. The players are jumping around now, throwing their hands in the air in celebration.</p><p>Gaila, Spock, and Nyota stand and make their way up the stairs and out of the building. Kirk and McCoy follow them, still agitated from the results of the match. They all pile onto the nearest hoverbus and sit down in oppositely facing rows.</p><p>Nyota turns slightly to look at Spock. “Would you like to get tea tomorrow? I’m free during lunch.”</p><p>“That would be acceptable.” He’s sitting in his seat with his spine perfectly straight. The bus is filled with a sea of red cadet uniforms, and he’s the only one dressed in black. He stands when they reach the faculty apartments.</p><p>Nyota peers up at him from her seated position. He looks even taller now. “Thank you for coming.”</p><p>He nods once. “Of course.”</p><p>Before he leaves, he leans down and kisses her gently. It’s a quick thing, really only a peck, but it leaves her heart racing and a blush dotting her cheeks. She watches him exit the bus and stares at the broad line of shoulders as he disappears behind an apartment building. When she drags her gaze back, Kirk is looking at her. Nyota wants to crawl under her seat.</p><p>“So that’s why you won’t let me take you out.” He’s grinning now as he sits next to McCoy. The xenobiology cadet seems to be purposefully zoning out of the conversation. Good man.</p><p>Nyota fights a smile off her face. “Yep.”</p><p>“Well, I’m impressed.” Jim cracks his knuckles and leans back in his seat. “Didn’t think he had it in him.”</p><p>Nyota watches the trees go by for a few seconds before responding. When she does, her voice is so soft that only Gaila hears her. “I’m glad he did.”</p><p>Her roommate reaches over and squeezes her hand. Nyota squeezes back and they ride like that until they reach their dorm, exhausted and ready for bed.</p>
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